


Little Witch

by XxByImm



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 20:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20712149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxByImm/pseuds/XxByImm
Summary: Request for a beautiful friend on Tumblr: 'Hi, I don’t know if requests are open or if you even take them but if you do, could you write a one shot of the company reacting to the reader dying their hair a crazy color? I just recently bleached and dyed mine pink and I’m LOVING the reactions I get lol'





	Little Witch

**Author's Note:**

> *A balneae is a small-scale bathing facility and is much similar to a thermae, but much more private.  
** Ibnêm means being beautiful, or the act of becoming beautiful 
> 
> Hope you enjoy. xoxo

When the elves of Rivendell had given you permission to use one of their balneae*, they expected you to take a long, satisfying bath and maybe even use one of the oils that were provided to rub in your skin afterwards.

They surely would not expect… this.

You took a comb from the washing stand and turned to full-length mirror. While you were brushing your hair in long, calming strokes, you couldn’t help but grin like an idiot. Your hair was still wet and you had yet to see the end result, but it looked like it had worked.

Mahal, it worked!

As the daughter of a midwife, you knew your way around plants, herbs and the medicinal aid they could provide. Although you didn’t wish to follow your mothers’ career path like almost all the women in your family, you did like to experiment with the herbs they worked with. This special ointment, a paste that should color your hair in any shade you liked, had taken months to prepare. Your mom had flatly refused to give you any ingredients (‘what will the people think about us when they find out, Y/N?!’), so you had to handpick everything yourself in the little spare time you had. You didn’t blame your mom though, for you knew that midwives ought to be especially careful preserving their reputation. Any accusation of witchcraft could put a stop to your mom’s thriving business. Or worse, get all of you killed.

Besides, you liked to disappear in the woods behind your families’ cottage and be alone with your own thoughts. Sure, you loved your mother and little sister but they always were so loud, their egos very much present. You were much more like your late father: calm and observant, but a generous and compassionate person nonetheless. The villagers would call you reserved or shy and one time even arrogant, but they had no idea what brilliance laid beneath the surface. Still water runs deep.

One day, when Oín paid your family a visit to trade some medicines and tell the tale of a noble quest to reclaim a homeland, you seized the opportunity and asked if he could use an assistant. The poor dwarf said no at first, but when you gave him the puppy eye look he finally agreed with a weary sigh. He liked you too much to ever deny you anything and you knew it. Besides, as you argued, you had much more skill to bring to the table. For one, you were creative with food and liked to prepare anything that nature had to offer. Secondly, your father had taught you to fight with a sword, so you were able to defend yourself and others.  
And thirdly, although you didn’t say this out loud, you needed to escape this loving but suffocating environment and be your own woman.

After the deal was struck, Oín took you with him. Although the journey towards Erebor had put a temporarily stop on hair dyeing project, even while you explored the wilds you kept looking for florae that could be useful sometime. So when you discovered a bush of isatis tinctorial (or in the common tongue, dyer’s woad), you knew you had found your missing ingredient and couldn’t wait to try it.

You put down the comb and reached for the jar with lavender oil. You knew it had been a risk to apply all of the paste into your whole hair, but so far it had paid off. Damn, the indigo color looked marvelous on you! You giggled softly while your fingers worked through your hair, rubbing the oil into your purple locks.

You couldn’t wait to show the others.  
Well… maybe not all others… When you looked deep into your soul, you had to admit that this was about one particular other dwarf. A dreamy sigh escaped you. Before you met him in Bag end, you hadn’t been particularly interested in members of the other sex. But when he had locked his gorgeous dark eyes with your E/C ones, you suddenly discovered you had a type.

And that type came in the form of a burly dwarf with tattoos and a full, dark beard. He had insanely strong arms that made your legs wobbly and the brooding attitude that surely was meant to scare others away, was only attracting you to him even more.  
Mahal save your soul. Dwalin, son of Fundin, had snatched your heart the moment you had stepped over the threshold of Bag end, and the bastard didn’t even care.

••••••••••••••••

The company had kindly (or should you say rudely?) declined the elves’ offer to stay in the guest houses. Although the prospect of a comfortable bed and clean sheets would have tempted anyone, the dwarves weren’t inclined in the slightest. Instead, they had set up camp on the porch of one of the buildings in the farthest corner of the valley. The sun was setting when you lazily strolled through the perfectly built corridors, enjoying the silken fabric of the dress against your skin. One of the elven maids had helped you wash your thick woolen dress that you wore on the road and she had been so kind to borrow you her own garments while yours dried. The design of this one was way more feminine, the baby blue color making you impossibly cute, but the way it clung to your curves made it a little daring as well.

It wasn’t too difficult to find your companions. The roaring laughter of Bofur met your ears first, followed by cheers from the others. You turned the corner and smiled when the company came into view. Thorin, Balin, Bilbo and Gandalf weren’t there, but the rest of the company was sitting on various pieces of furniture (that they no doubt had dragged from inside) and a small fire was crackling in the porches’ corner. At some point during your absence they must have raided the kitchens of Rivendell, because there was plenty of delicious food. You smirked. This was a whole of a lot better than the greenery your hosts had presented you earlier during dinner.

‘Hey, Y/N!’ Bofur noticed you, his eyes going up and down your figure admiringly. He whistled. ‘Looking fine as ever, my lady! Where did you get the dress?’  
‘An elf was so kind to lend me one while mine dries.’ You murmured softly, feeling a bit self-conscious now everyone stopped with whatever they were doing and started staring at your physique. Dwalin was leaning against the wall a little further away, his strong arms folded. Like the others, he was watching you, but his dark expression wasn’t encouraging.  
You swallowed hard, tearing your gaze away from him. ‘I’m not sure if it’s my style, though.’ You admitted shyly to the others. ‘After all, it’s elvish.’  
‘Well Y/N, Elvish or no… we could put you in a potato sack and you’d still look cute.’ Kíli remarked with a smug grin.  
‘Aye.’ Nori agreed while winking at you.  
‘On that note…’ Fíli’s husky voice turned up next to you. ‘What did you do with your hair?’  
‘You remember the experiment I told you about?’ you hummed excitedly at the blond prince, your broody love interest suddenly all forgotten. ‘I tried the ointment tonight and look: it worked!’

Now you surely had everyone’s full attention. They all stared shamelessly (and some open-mouthed) at your indigo colored locks. You bit your lip and lowered your gaze. A blush seared through your cheeks and you felt like your face was on fire. You weren’t used to so much undivided male attention, and although it did make you feel self-conscious and awkward, a small part of you enjoyed it.

‘Magnificent.’ Dori whispered. ‘Unlike anything I’ve ever seen.’  
‘Ibnêm!**’ Bifur shouted, making a gesture. As usual, you didn’t understand a word he said to you.  
‘He says you’re looking beautiful.’ Bombur clarified with an enthusiastic nod. ‘And I think we all wholeheartedly agree!’

A quick glance to the other side of the porch told you that in fact, all but one did agree with Bombur.  
‘What plant did you use to get such a vibrant color, lass?’ Oín inquired as he came closer to inspect your hair. Ah, ever the practical one, that was.  
‘Dyer’s woad.’ You beamed. ‘I hadn’t thought of it until we came across it just outside the shire.’  
‘Yes, of course.’ The healer muttered in thought, probably remembering the two of you harvesting the plant together. ‘I wonder though what your mother would say…’  
You shrugged, not really giving a damn. It was not like your mother would find out anyway, and you didn’t plan to return to home anytime soon. By that time, you expected the dye to have fully grown out.

‘This shade of indigo looks pretty on you, Y/N.’ said Ori, who was sitting closest to where you were standing, shyly. ‘But if I may say… you’ve always been pretty to me…’  
‘Oh, stop it!’ You flushed. ‘If y’all continue to shower me with compliments like this, It will go to my head!’  
‘I’ll bet a bright red shade will suit you just as well.’ Fíli assured you with a grin.  
You giggled lightly, shook your head and went in search of a place to sit among them.  
‘No!’ Kíli cried out when you tried to squeeze yourself between himself and Dori.  
‘What?’ you asked while quickly standing up again, shaken by his sudden bravura. The prince smirked and stood up too, gesturing for your hand.  
‘A girl as pretty as you needs to dance.’ He said with a smile.  
‘Do I?’ you inquired, but you agreed anyway.  
‘He’s right, lass.’ Bofur laughed and he motioned for the others to retrieve their instruments. ‘And I know just the song…’

••••••••••••••••

After a long night of dancing, drinking and having fun with the others, you were still pleased when you finally could crawl into your own bedroll. It was funny how much the dwarves made you feel at home, even more than your own family had done. You had just found a comfortable position to fall asleep in, when a certain moody dwarf towered over you.

‘Little witch.’ he greeted you shortly with the nickname he had given you the day you had met. ‘A word.’  
‘I’m just-’ you protested, but when you saw the dwarf’s stern glare you crept out of bed anyway. Dwalin didn’t wait for you, but merely stalked away into the forest. You gathered the seams of your dress and trailed after him. It still puzzled you why he insisted on calling you ‘little witch’ rather than using your own name for once, but the fact that he had the nerve to drag you from your bed and walk away before clarifying himself, went even for your sweet nature too far.

‘What’s this about? And how many times do I have to tell you that I’m no witch?’ you demanded as you followed him through the valley. ‘People could actually think I am a witch and kill me for it!’  
‘There will be no killing.’ Dwalin snapped. ‘Ye’re overreacting.’  
‘Am I?’ you countered. ‘I’m not the one dragging YOUR ass out of bed!’

Dwalin stopped and you almost bumped into his broad back.  
‘Feisty now, are we?!’ the warrior smirked while turning around. ‘I knew there was fire under that sweet surface of yers.’  
You narrowed your eyes. ‘Are you going to tell me the point of all this?!’  
You crossed your arms and waited as he seemed to have difficulty making up his mind.  
‘Well?’

‘What were ye thinking?’ he instantly thundered, gesturing at your hair.  
‘Apparently, not much.’ You retaliated.  
‘Hair is important to dwarves.’ He growled gruffly. ‘And yers is drawing way too much attention.’  
‘And why should I care?’ you hissed. ‘I happen to like it.’

The warrior heaved a long sigh, his angry demeanor fading away. His gorgeous dark eyes were taking you in, his gaze burning through your soul. You bit your lip and quickly looked down at your hands, unable to maintain the contact. Your whole body was shaking, jolts were running up and down your spine and you had difficulty standing straight. The dwarf was doing things to you, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

‘Aye.’ He finally said in a low grunt. ‘Although it is in need of a braid.’  
‘Why…’ You mused while running your fingers through your wavy, long locks. ‘I prefer my locks wild rather than tamed.’  
‘No.’ he said curtly.  
‘What?!’  
‘Y/N.’ Dwalin urged, taking a step towards you. ‘Let me. Braid. It.’  
‘You? Braid my hair?’ you repeated his words, feeling completely dumbfounded. Sure, you knew a lot about human customs and social rules, but you knew nothing about the dwarven culture. Okay, so hair was a thing according to dwarves, but when did Dwalin, son of Fundin, started caring about your hair? What had you missed?

Dwalin was standing closer to you than he had ever been, his masculine scent enveloping you. His big, sturdy hands cupped your cheeks in a gentle manner you didn’t know he was capable of. His hot breath fanned your face. Dark eyes sought yours, sparkling with passion and…

It was as if lightning struck and suddenly you understood.

Oh.  
OH!

‘Ye’re a delicate little thing.’ The warrior whispered against your lips. ‘Mahal knows I have tried to fight it, but I can’t no more. Ye’ve bewitched me.’  
‘I don’t…’ you breathed shakily. ‘I don’t understand.’  
‘Humans can be so stupid.’ Dwalin groaned, but there was a soft undertone in his voice. ‘Ye had no clue?’  
‘How could I?’ you protested weakly. ‘You were so broody all the time!’  
‘I was jealous when ye were with others.’ He explained. ‘I wanted ye to be mine.’  
‘You could have asked, you know.’ You told him. ‘Then I might have said that I… return your feelings.’

You were breathing in each other’s air and it made your head spin. His hands moved into your hair, his fingers softly combing through your indigo colored locks. His eyes were so beautiful, you could get lost in them for hours.

‘I showed ye, many times.’ He said gently.  
You furrowed your brows together. ‘How?!’  
‘Brought ye food, lend ye my cloak.’ Dwalin stated. ‘Made sure ye were taken care of.’  
‘Oh… I just thought you were being kind!’  
‘I’m many things, but not kind.’ The warrior insisted. ‘I tried to tell ye, little witch…’

Whatever he wanted to say you would never know, because he pulled you into a rough kiss. Passion sparked and lips moved against one another. His fingers clawed into your hair and your own hands slipped around his broad back, dragging your nails over the steel muscles. Your hips grinded against his, earning a harsh growl from him.  
When he finally lowered you on the soft, long grass, you knew there would be no sleep for the both of you that night.

Instead, that night you learned a great deal more about dwarves…


End file.
